Same Corner
by sugarbombs
Summary: Charon gets paired up with the wasteland's biggest bigot  not 101 . So much angst your nose will bleed and you wont even care because you're that hardcore.


__This is a new story I'm working on in-between continuing my Gob story - had computer issues and a writing block but I will get back to it! It's not an instant gratification story and has a shed load of character development so be warned.

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><p><em>Same corner, same walls, same tables sa-<em>

"**Charon! **Get over here!**" **_Same asshole._

It had been just another day for the hulking ghoul, the no-hopers of underworld drooling and fermenting themselves, hours of staring at nothing and anything and Azrukhal, just being his ever so pleasant self.

Charon walked up to the bar like a man approaching his sentence and stood opposite his boss and next to Crowley who was slumped on the bar grinning to himself. The bar was empty now bar these two drinking.

_This bastards' been here all day, they could be brothers, twins even. Same shit eating grins and backward fucking morals. The rat bastards._

"Charon, what do you know about ferals?" Azrukhal leaned on the bar with a smile that could split his face and his drink in hand.

_Ferals? Is he serious?_

"One shot kill and that could do them twice over" Charon grunted, his voice sounding more alien now it had left the cage of his head.

"Not the ghouls dumbass" Crowley roared, he was drunk but it was still unnerving. _He's never fucking happy, most miserable fucker out of all these ghouls – and that's saying a lot._

"I mean one of **you**" Azrukhal nodded with an equally glazed drunk appeal to his face. He picked up a beer and handed it to Charon who took it swiftly. _I haven't had a fucking drink in two whole fucking days you dick._

"One of me…" Charon mumbled as he slammed the bottle on the bar to shoot the cap off.

"Sit down" Crowley patted the stool next to him and Charon reluctantly took it. It was like being at school, the two bullies toying with the new kid. _Except I could kill both of you in my sleep._

"Yeah one of you, you know… _employees" _Azrukhal sneered into his dirty half full wine glass.

"Oh" Charon grumbled as Crowley lifted a piece of paper and waved it like a dirty white flag. Charon's eyes shot open for the briefest of moments.

_A contract?_

_No, that's not mine._

He brushed off his pathetic display of excitement, at the prospect of his contract finally changing hands, with a cool sip of his beer. _Feral division. Right. _Charon thought back to his 'training' and what the separate divisions had all been brainwashed to do unconditionally.

"Feral division –"

"Ha! Feral division!" Azrukhal spat, his wine dribbling over his sharp tongue. "Go on Charon…"

_It aint that funny asshole._

"Ferals are born and bred mindless killers, like the real things. They just kill – they don't think, they can't even." Charon took another swig of his beer.

"Good job I don't need them to think eh?" Crowley chuckled. "Sounds like they'll be perfect…"

_Slimy fucker._

"How do you even know that it's any good, you never even seen it" Azrukhal said casually pouring his buddy another glass of wine and now openly ignoring Charon.

_It. Fucking it. We're still fucking people._

"_Friend_ of mine told me you can tell by the names or some shit I don't know, said this one was a sure thing" Crowley lit up a cigarette now and offered one to Azrukhal. He eyed Charon for a brief moment before figuring 'what the hell' and offering him one too. Charon gladly took it and waited for the lighter to be passed around.

"You're too trusting you know" Azrukhal joked out the side of his mouth, lighting his smoke. He passed the lighter to Charon without looking at him.

"It's true" Charon said as he lit up, "The names on the contract are ranks" he inhaled the dirty smoke deeply. _That's fucking nice._ "What's his name?" The lighter went back to Crowley who put it in his pocket.

"It's a woman" he sniggered looking down at his recently purchased paper.

"A woman? Ha! You sly old dog" Azrukhal bellowed. Charon sneered inwardly. _Poor girl, the way they train feral division is something no woman should be put through._

"So what are these ranks huh Charon?" Crowley said staring at his contract positively glowing.

Charon let out a sigh trying to remember the different feral ranks; after all it wasn't his division. He was in a completely different league – created for different purposes, but still what did that matter now, he was nothing more than a bouncer.

"There's a basic Feral Grunt, Roamers, then Glowing the highest rank is Reaver." Charon basked in his beer and smoke ignoring the smug look on Crowley's face. _You'd have a hard time to find a female higher than roamer, they just aren't strong enough._

"Well would you look at that" Crowley grinned as he pushed the contract to Azrukhal.

"Ha! Fuck me, you lucked out" Azrukhal returned the same dirty smile.

That was it, neither of them spoke to Charon for the rest of the night, they'd got what they wanted from him and he was thrown back like a used tissue. Charon didn't much like the idea of some girl of his creed working for Crowley, hell he didn't like the idea of any woman being subjected to the mental and physical torture he faced – he had always been somewhat of a gentleman before the war and his training and he still held the rather dated ideals that women needed to be cared for and protected, not hired to kill. But still she was something new to look at than the rotting walls – and people and that in itself would prove interesting.

He soon locked up and retired to his chair.

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><p>It was the early hours of the morning when Willow noticed something stir from the crude trenches the super mutants had occupied. If it had been one of the giant monsters she would have smelt it by now and besides it wouldn't do a ghoul any harm. But it wasn't a mutant; she saw messy brown hair flutter upwards in the wind, followed by the head it was attached to.<p>

A young smoothskin girl. Not worth an itchy trigger finger.

The smoothskin strutted proudly out of the fresh mutant mass grave she'd just created, head half shaved, a ratty long black vest under a flimsy black jacket, leather pants and from what Willow could see a serious addiction to belts. The kid slung her rifle over her back and jammed a cigarette into her mouth before she began admiring her work.

It was a feat Willow could admit coming from someone so small and soft but there was something about this girl's demeanour that didn't sit right with her. The smoothskin looked over her shoulder with an expression that poured blood lust and then she settled into a more vacant one as she turned and walked towards the ghoul guard.

"Underworld yeah?" she asked, no demanded.

"Yeah under the skull kid, welcome to the mall" Willow chirped sarcastically.

"What are you, the tour guide?" the girl snapped as she leaned on one side of her hip puffing her smoke.

"Depends, are you a tourist?" Willow said with an equally snappy tone.

"I'm taking up residency unfortunately" the girl smiled a terrible fake smile – maybe deliberately so.

"You are aware your kind don't sit well in Underworld kid" Willow eyed her up; she knew this girl would be trouble and hell was she going to be the one answering for it.

"Yeah well your **kind** don't sit well with **me**" the stranger flicked her cigarette out and it landed at the foot of Willows boot before she sneered and made for the big doors.

Willow stood staring at the door for a while, it obviously wasn't new to her but it still got her going. She peered out over the trenches with a sour look on her face.

"Fucking bigots"


End file.
